La Douleur Exquise
by Mygayshoes
Summary: La Douleur Exquise: The excruciating pain experienced when wanting someone you cannot have. (Or, the misery of being a Half-Fang)


**Disclaimer: ****I hold no rights to any of the worlds depicted within, only the content of my own dreams.**

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The second his eyes greeted the boy's face, his stomach has twisted into a painful knot at the fleeting thought that this was _not_ the Chosen One. He'd dismissed it at the time; a foolish emotion that surfaced from his tastes for brunette beauties, with long seductive lashes and entrancing jawlines- a taste that he had indulged himself with far too often. It was a painful knot crafted from the way his instincts battled against the knowledge that a fallacious claim to the Crown, through only bring a stake to destroy his chest.

What was a knee-jerk reaction, to his _Duty_ afterall?

And provocative eyes or not, no person would stand in the way of his only purpose in life. Yet the fair boy with his long lashes and enticing jawline had quickly proved that he was no liar, but rather the single peron who he had been searching for, for the past 400 years. The book was now longer the sole reason for his existence- for the Chosen One had now received it. For an all too despairing moment, Bertrand took a moment to wonder if he would be left to the rest of his unlife, without a purpose in life. But all too quickly the boy had looked at him and smiled, and there in his eyes was more trust than he'd ever been given by any Vampire before. Essentially, the boy forced his way into the natural order of his world, and upended it to his own personal desires. Essentially the boy now became his _purpose_.

(And he didn't like this _one bit_.)

The 'knee-jerk' feeling didn't go away; disproving his therory that the knot in his stomach had simply been the physical manifestation to his thoughts of _'Oh what a waste!'_ when the boy had stubbornly refused to perform the tricks Bertrand had ordered. Instead the feelings grew in his stomach, and no amount of the finest vintages could displace it from his tender organs. Of course he had considered that what he felt was the budding young beauty of love, except it wasn't, and it didn't quite fit.

(After all, he had been in love before, and the feeling had felt much more pleasant.)

Besides, he couldn't possibly be in love. The boy would become a _King, _and no one could say that Bertrand du Fortuesa was stupid enough to skirt too close to someone who held so much power. Vlad was like a warm fire; bask in his presence and the warmth and light was enough to bring out the absolute best in people, but move too close and you'd get burnt.

(Yet somehow, he just kept edging closer, and the flames grew hotter and hotter.)

Ingrid of course, figured it out long before anyone else; nothing could escape her attention, and whether she acted out of care for her brother, or her own personal enjoyment was something to be debated another day.

"Oh this is rich! You haven't figured it out, have you?" " Her laughter bubbled with dark joy, "Half Fangs are always be loyal to their maker, well, until they find someone more powerful..."

Her more-common cruel smile so unlike the one that Vlad wore so less of, and suddenly he can't find traces of Vlad in her face anymore. Not since her eyes trace his neck for the marks that had healed hundreds of years ago. But the reality of the situation is a punch in the stomach, and he noticeably straightens his back and stares back coldly enough for her to know that he wasn't going to play her game anymore.

"Bertrand," She pauses with a mocking lilt to her voice, "This is why we create you; what other purpose would you have? Why else would you try to stake me based upon _Dad's_ word of all thing- even I know you're smarter than that."

(He knew it could never be love, but it didn't mean he couldn't have hoped...)

"Good night Ingrid," He replies with a tone of finality, and turns and leaves with the Information tucked under his belt. It was a pity that it had to be that particular Vampire who knew enough to twist him, but it was rather favourable to the other young Dracula.

The painful knot twists in his stomach, and by this time he has to admit that the knot is a mess of loyalty and guilt and suspicion and an extra serving of paranoia. It couldn't be said that his Sire had been anything but a true Vampire, but then again, it couldn't be said that the solution he had used had been anything but a stake. Had he ever met a Half-fang who hadn't been dancing around a Born-Vampire in some level of utter devotion? True it was, that he hadn't asked every single acquaintance on how they came about unlife, but the sinking feeling in his stomach told him no.

The more the boy looked at him and smiled and asked him ever-so nicely to hop, skip and jump, the more he found his own nature agreeing merrily, and the tighter the knot grew in his stomach.)

"The problem, dear Bertrand," Ingrid swooped into his room with a curled lip, "Is that you're too attached. Ignore a groupie for too long and they lose interest and find another Vampire to fawn over. Your problem, lies in the fact that Vlad has you wrapped around his little finger, on beck and call night and day. And right now, Tutor, you're his favourite puppet."

(Then suddenly Erin was so much more than a Half-Fang and Vlad fawned over her and they were joined at the hip and _oh bats_ why would he never listen-)

The knot in his stomach subsided after that. After that Erin became Vlad utter focus, and his former Tutor was cast aside in favour of a prettier, new model, and _NO_ that was _NOT_ jealousy. The suspicion and paranoia subsided back to their natural levels, and suddenly he felt more like an equal to Vlad than he had ever been, and yet the loyalty was still there and now he could FEEL the butterflies in his stomach everytime he earned a small smile or even a small acknowledgement-

"_Jump Bertrand_." Ingrid mockingly whispered as she left rooms and spied Vlad and his stunning smiles.

Half Fang or not, there was no way he was going to give up the Independence he had won over 400 years of solitude.

"Have you figured it out yet?" Ingrid asked, with a smile that seemed much more pity than her usual smirk of darkness, "Have you decided what you're going to do about it?"

"I'm in love with him," Bertrand eventually voiced, once it was clear that she already knew, "And I'm already starting to take on the characteristics of a Half-Fang under fealty."

"Any more, and you'll be like a dog to it's masters leg," She commented; revealing the enraged glance she provoked from the usually mild-mannered Tutor, "It's pathetic. So what are you going to do about it?"

"_Fight it_."

(Then Erin was human and suddenly she was tied up, and the book was in his hands, and by _Hades_, he wanted it back when he could be his own person and the book was his purpose in life, but Vlad was cold and the trust was broken-)

And the knot in his stomach was so utterly painful.

"Fight it?" Ingrid responded with a shrug, "And here I was, thinking you'd be buying him a dozen roses and a romantic bottle of vintage _Soy-blood_."

(And the words could never come to explain WHY he acted as he did, and damn why did the English language have the eloquence and freedom of a coffin three sizes too small?)

"If I get too close, I'd be little more than a shield made of flesh," Bertrand responded, already noticing her hunger at the realization that Half-Fangs were nothing more than instant henchmen, "I have no intention of loosing myself."

"Step too close to the fire, and you'll get burnt." Ingrid mused, with the weight of someone who had finally realized something years too late.

(And the book was a deranged monster and _how the hell hadn't he known_, and how would Vlad ever-)

"I think I finally understand why Born-Vampires advise their children to never dalliance with a Half-Fang," Bertrand sighed and swirled the ruby-red liquid into his mouth and pretended that it had once pumped through veins, "Once I had thought the prejudice was unfounded..."

(And then Sethius was gone but the trust was broken, and_ stakes and garlic_ what if he had blown the past 400 years on a temper tantrum-)

"They work sometimes," Ingrid paused, and suddenly he was frighteningly aware that she was actively wishing him _luck_, "You just have to know for certain that both of you love each other completely, and talk about healthy boundaries, and-"

"Ingrid, he's the Chosen One, the Grand High Vampire, and the Dracula Heir," The soy blood went down much more bitter than it was made, "How can anyone remain themselves while confronted with such stature?"

The look Ingrid gave him was enough to kill, "You don't gloriful him, and you certainly don't turn him into a revered god. He's still the wimpire who owns Mr Cuddles the monkey. You keep that in your mind, and recognize him as your _equal_."

(Love? It was just a foolish emotion that surfaced from his tastes for brunette beauties, with long seductive lashes and entrancing jawlines, and Vlad was going to be the Grand High Vampire, and he was the Chosen One and there was no room for Half-Fangs undergoing an Identity Crisis in that stunning future and-)

"I've figured it out, Ingrid." The dark haired man eventually announced, "My mother called it _La Douleur Exquise; _The excruciating pain of wanting someone you cannot have."

"I'll just leave you to your _pity party_ then, shall I?"

(And then Erin became the way he so desperatelyfought against, but she was suked into another orbit, and Malik was guilty and there was a shapeshifter loose and _MAYBE_ if he figured out how to get rid of the thing then Vlad would trust him again and it could go back to the way it was before when the mutual repect and mutual loyalty made things so much better, and why was so so devoted to Vlad when he was fighting with all he had? Then he knew and the knot uncurled from his stomach and DAMN he had caught a shapeshifter and the proof was right here and Vlad-)

**"Vlad! I've been looking for you everywhere! I know. I know who-"**

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